by Sarah Price
She glanced toward the field and saw that Stephen was beginning to bring in their team of Belgians. With a good thunderstorm inevitable, Priscilla was looking forward to spending the afternoon with her husband. She pulled the rest of the laundry down from the line, folding each item as she did. Then, carrying the basket inside the house, she set it down on the floor to hurry and prepare a pitcher of fresh meadow tea for her husband.
“Going to rain some,”he said as he walked in, setting his hat on the table.“Right gut for the crops, so can’t say I’m displeased.”He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down; smiling his appreciation at the glass of fragrant cool tea she had just placed before him.“You feeling all right, then?”he asked, eyeballing her as she pushed at a stray strand of hair that had sprung free from her bun.
“It’s muggy out,”she complained.
“That it is,”he concurred.“Have you seen your garden? Everything is growing like mad! Gut soil.”
She nodded and sat down next to him. Resting her head against her hand, she leaned forward and shut her eyes.“Needs weeding. Thought I might do it this afternoon, but not if it’s raining.”
Stephen set down his glass and stared at Priscilla. There was a gleam in his eye but he said nothing. Instead, he reached out and touched her hand.“Sure do look tired there, Priscilla,”he said softly.“Mayhaps you should take a short nap.”
She laughed and looked at him. A nap?“During the day?”Whoever heard of such a thing?“Stephen, I’m just fine,”she scoffed, touched by his concern but also embarrassed that he would think she was so tired.“It’s just the heat from the storm approaching, that’s all. Plus I did laundry this morning. You know that the sheets and towel tucker me out.”
He tried to hide his smile.“Tucker you out all right,”he teased. He lifted the glass to his lips and finished the tea.“Um mmm. You sure do make the best meadow tea that I’ve ever tasted!”
She stood up.“No better than anyone else’s, I reckon,”she replied modestly as she plucked the pitcher off of the counter and refilled his glass.“But I’m sure glad you like it.”
He reached for her hand and pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her waist. She bit her lower lip as she set down the pitcher on the table before turning to put her arms around his neck.“Like it I do,”he whispered and started to pull her down onto his lap.“And I look forward to many, many long years of enjoying it.”
She tried to fight his hold but finally gave up and let his arm pull her tight.“Stephen,”she said, glancing up at the clock on the wall. Her eyes drifted to the window, quickly observing that it was becoming increasingly dark in the sky. There would be no work in the fields for a while, that was for sure and certain. Turning her attention back to her husband, she stumbled over her words.“I…I…”She didn’t know what to say as the color flooded to her cheeks.
He started to nuzzle at her neck, his hands caressing her back ever so gently.
“I hear something,”she whispered, squiggling to free herself from his embrace.
Stephen shut his eyes and exhaled deeply.“Who might that be?”he mumbled. Standing up, he glanced over her shoulder toward the window. Someone had definitely just pulled down the lane to their house for he saw a horse and buggy standing at the hitching post, next to the barn. He sighed and looked down at his wife. With a regretful smile, he leaned down and planted a soft, tender kiss on her lips.“Go rest, sleepy head. It’s a rainy afternoon anyway and mayhaps I’ll join you in a spell. Rainy spring days are perfect for a little respite from work anyhow.”
Without another word, he started toward the door, pausing for just a moment to grab his hat. Priscilla leaned against the table, her knees feeling weak from the power that her husband had over her. She could feel her heart pounding and her lips still tingled from his kiss. With a soft smile, she lifted her fingers to her mouth and touched where he had just kissed her.
Humming to herself, she carried the pitcher back over to the refrigerator and began to tackle her afternoon chores.
It wasn’t until later that she found out who had visited. Gid had swung by to have a private word with Stephen in the barn. With the grey sky and the dampness that seemed to clog the air, Priscilla had taken Stephen’s advice and laid down for a short spell. To her surprise, she awoke almost two hours later.
Swinging her legs over the side of the mattress, she rubbed at her eyes and straightened the burgundy fabric of her dress. She had fallen asleep with her prayer kapp still on her head but it had shifted to the side. Suppressing a yawn, she stood up and shuffled to the small mirror over the dresser in order to fix her kapp.
“I don’t know why I’m so tired,”she said, mostly to herself as she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. To her surprise, Stephen was not there. She glanced around, wondering where he could have gone. After all, she knew that the rainy weather would bring him inside for the rest of the day until it was time for evening chores.
But the room was empty.
She looked up toward the window over the sink. The yard was empty. Whoever had visited earlier had gone and taken Stephen with him. A frown creased her brow but she tried to push the feeling of dread out of her mind. Yet, despite busying herself, she knew that something was not quite right. Stephen would never leave without telling her…unless he didn’t want her to know where he was going or why.
Still, his grey-topped black buggy was missing from the place where he always parked it: the side of the barn closer to the house. He was gone, indeed.
The rain had stopped when he finally returned, almost an hour after she awakened. She was busy baking fresh bread and making a peach pie from homemade canned peaches that her mamm had given to her. The kitchen smelled of warm dough and sweet peaches. He walked in, setting his hat on the counter and smacking his lips
“Um um,”he said.“Something sure smells right gut! I sure hope that’s for my supper!”
She looked up from the oven where she was bent over, using two potholders to remove the bread. The top of the loaf was crusted a golden brown, just perfect and exactly the way she liked to serve it. Setting it on the cooling rake, Priscilla leaned down and shut the over door as the pie needed a little more time cooking in the oven.
“I was surprised to see you gone when I woke up,”she said lightly.
“Ah,”he started, his eyes sparkling.“You took that nap after all, ja?”
Her cheeks flushed pink.
“Mayhaps a bit of coffee, then? I might be able to tell you where I disappeared too,”he said teasingly.“But not before I get a little warm coffee to shake off the rain. I’m right chilled to the bone!”
Her curiosity was piqued but she asked no questions. She knew that Stephen would tell her in his own time and, from the looks of the gleam in his eye, she suspected that it was some story. It only took her a few minutes to get the water boiling on the propane stove and, by that time, Stephen was already reading The Budget. She could hear the crinkling of the newspaper as he turned the pages. The noise sounded loud in the silence of the kitchen.
When the coffee was finally ready, she set the cup in front of Stephen and sat down on the bench beside him.
He folded the paper neatly and pushed it to the center of the table. With a dramatic hesitation, he reached for the coffee mug and lifted it to his lips. Patiently, Priscilla waited, smiling on the inside at his little game.
“Ah,”he said, smacking his lips.“You do make one great cup of coffee, fraa.”
She said nothing but watched him, curious as to what he was so anxious to tell her.
“Vell,”he finally said, looking her directly in the eye.“It appears that we are going to have a visitor this weekend.”
“A visitor?”That was news, indeed. Apart from their families and her friends, it was usually Stephen and Priscilla who did the visiting at other people’s farms. That was just the way that it was done.
He nodded his head.“Ja, a very interesting visitor.”
�
�Who might this‘visitor’be, Stephen?”
“Why, Bishop Miller, from a neighboring church district,”he said as if anticipating a reaction from his wife. When none came, he added,“From near Strasburg.”
She shrugged her shoulders.“I dare say that I don’t know him. Should I?”
“Mayhaps not,”Stephen admitted.“But there is a person who does know him and that would be Susie Byler.”
Priscilla gasped.“What is this about, Stephen?”
He smiled and shook his head.“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t gone myself. But Gid stopped by, smoke coming out of his ears.”
Now Priscilla was confused. Unless she was imagining things, Stephen had jumped from Susie Byler to Sarah’s brother, Gid. She failed to see the connection. It was clear that, with the exception of Stephen, Susie tended to target other women, not men. Certainly there was no conflict that involved Gid.“I think you best start from the beginning,”she said.“None of this is making sense.”
“Seems your little friend…”
“She’s not my friend,”Priscilla quickly interrupted.
He laughed and held up his hand.“Hear me out,”he said.“Your little friend got herself into a bit of trouble.”
More trouble? Priscilla braced herself for whatever was coming next.“What type of trouble?”
“Vell,”Stephen started.“She has been courting an Amish man from the Strasburg district. A John Morgan, I believe his name is. He’s an older farmer with a pig farm just north of Strasburg.”
“A pig farm?”Priscilla said, wrinkling her nose. If there was one thing she always knew, pig farms carried a smell with them that never left the pig farmer’s skin.
Stephen nodded.“Ja. He’s a bit older, never been married, and he approached her. Consequently, she visited the bishop of that g’may, requesting permission to take the spring baptism there. Gid’s cousin lives in that district and his father-in-law is the bishop. Word trickled back to Gid. He was furious.”
“Whatever on earth for?”She couldn’t make any connection between Gid and Susie Byler.“Why would Gid concern himself with something like that?”
Stephen shook his head at her, smiling.“There are many things that are right in front of you, my fraa, but that you don’t always see,”he teased.
She lifted an eyebrow at his words but did not reply.
“Gid knows all about what she has done to you,”Stephen explained.“And also to Sylvia.”
Something clicked inside of her head. She opened her eyes wide and looked at her husband. How had she not seen this? How had she not noticed how agitated Gid had become at every discussion about Susie bothering Sylvia? How had she not made the connection between Sylvia’s frequent visits from Holmes County, Ohio? While the Amish grapevine had whispered about Gid’s interest in Polly’s cousin long before she had returned to Ephrata for another extended visit with her Pennsylvania-based family, Priscilla hadn’t paid much attention to it, presuming it was simply gossip. Now, however, the fact that they were special friends was suddenly becoming clear to Priscilla.
“Oh,”she whispered.“I think I understand.”
“Ja,”Stephen nodded.“That’s right. So Gid went right to that bishop and told him everything that had been done. Everything that Susie Byler did to you and to Sylvia. Even about those phone calls to the various farms in the district.”
“Oh help!”Priscilla said, tossing her hands in the air.“That won’t help one bit! Sylvia didn’t want the bishops involved!”
Stephen leaned forward.“Here’s the thing, Priscilla. The bishop confronted Susie with this information and demanded a confession to the church before he would permit her to take the instructional.”
Her jaw dropped open and she could barely think of one word to say.
“He asked her if she apologized to you and…”Stephen paused.
“And what?”Priscilla couldn’t imagine what he would say next. There could be nothing to follow for she hadn’t seen Susie since her tormentor had been refused permission to attend the instructional, not counting the day that she had caught sight of her outside of that store.
“Well,”Stephen said slowly.“She said yes.”
Priscilla felt the wind rush from her lungs. She could barely believe what she had just heard. How had Stephen learned about all of this? How had he heard this horrible story, just one more continuation of a long string of lies that seemed to simply pour out of Susie’s mouth?
“I am almost inclined to say that you are making this up!”she finally gasped.
“Now, Priscilla,”he said, leveling his gaze at her.“You know I’d no sooner swear than lie to you or anyone else.”
Priscilla averted her eyes.
“But it does sound far-fetched, ja?”he added to soften his reprimand.“Gid denied that ever happened and the bishop wants to hear the words from your own mouth. He wants to ask you the question, Priscilla, about whether or not Susie asked for your forgiveness and repented.”
“Me?”Her voice squeaked out the word and she stared at her husband. She didn’t like the sound of this at all. Her life had settled down. She was so happy with Stephen, with her daily routine and with their future. She didn’t want anything mired by that Susie Byler. It had been a long time since Susie had darkened her doorstep and made all of those false accusations.
And then she remembered Sylvia’s letters, the ones that Susie had signed with her own name. She felt a flutter in her chest and a moment of renewed anger.
“Why not speak to Sylvia?”Priscilla asked.“She is the one that Susie is tormenting now.”
Stephen gave a casual shrug.“Seems Susie is denying all of that. The letter writing. There’s no proof. And Sylvia refuses to talk about it.”
“I don’t understand that at all!”It made no sense to Priscilla. Why would Sylvia not wish to show the letters to the bishop? Why would she not want to end the bullying? And then Sylvia’s words came back to her: I will handle this myself. For a moment, Priscilla shuddered, realizing that Sylvia meant what she had said. By remaining silent about the letters when asked directly by the bishop, she was, indeed, intending to deal with the situation directly.
Stephen shrugged.“I can’t explain Sylvia’s silence, but I do know that the bishop wants to talk to you since Susie was denied baptism at our church because of what she did to you.”
Priscilla started to stand up but Stephen reached for her wrist and held it gently. Looking down at her husband, she shook her head.“I don’t like this one bit,”she whispered.“Not one.”
“Me, neither,”Stephen admitted.“There has been naught but strife in our lives with that girl’s envious eyes focused on you. But, I’m sure hopeful that this will end it. Besides,”he added as he caressed the back of her hand. His eyes softened and he pulled her toward him, embracing her with his head pressed gently against her stomach.“We have each other, ain’t so? We have continually proven that, together, we don’t have much to concern ourselves with that woman.”
Priscilla smiled to herself. Leave it to Stephen to point out the obvious. Despite the turmoil and emotional upheaval, their lives were set and steady. They had their faith in God, support of the community, and love for each other. With so much going for them, they truly had very little to worry about in regard to anything that had to do with Susie. She had created her own problems and alienated herself by projecting her own inadequacies onto others. Nee, Priscilla thought, with Stephen by her side, she had nothing to concern herself with in regard to that woman at all.
Chapter Seven
It was Friday at eleven when the black-topped buggy pulled into the driveway. Priscilla was busy making cheese and the kitchen had an appealing smell to it of warm curds that were wrapped in cheese cloth and dripping over the sink. She was just about to break down the curds and salt them before putting them into the plastic cheese mold when she heard the horse and buggy coming up the driveway.
Glancing outside, she saw Stephen emerge from the barn, his battered str
aw hat tilted back on his head as he lifted his hand to greet whoever had arrived. She saw her husband lean his hand against the buggy and engage in conversation with the people that were inside. When Stephen turned his head to look toward the house, she knew that the visitor was going to be coming into the house. Quickly, Priscilla looked around the kitchen. Everything was tidy and neat, just the way she liked it. She disliked visiting homes where the kitchen was messy and needed a good cleaning. Priscilla’s mamm had always taught her that an organized and clean kitchen was the heart of the home.
When she looked back out the window, she was startled to see an older man step out of the buggy. With his long, gray beard and black suit, Priscilla immediately knew that this was not a social visit. Yet, she did not recognize the man.
Earlier that morning, she helped Stephen with milking the cows and washed their laundry to hang it outside in the fresh spring sun. God’s dryer, she thought to herself. She even managed to spend an hour in the garden, weeding between the rows of growing vegetables. Later that afternoon, after she had prepared dinner, she intended to work with Stephen in the fields. Despite being a productive day, there was still a lot of work to be done. She hoped that the visitor wouldn’t stay too long.
Priscilla took the hand towel and quickly wiped down the counter before folding the cloth and hanging it over the edge of the sink. She straightened her apron and started to walk toward the door off of the kitchen in order to step outside and onto the porch. The cool spring breeze touched her skin and soothed her. It was warm in the kitchen, that was for sure and certain.
She lingered near the edge of the porch, watching as Stephen talked to the stranger. Twice she saw Stephen glancing toward the house. The second time, he lifted his hand to acknowledge her but also to indicate that she should stay put. Then, she saw him nod his head and gesture toward the house.
And that was when she saw her.
Susie Byler sat on the front seat of buggy.
For a moment, Priscilla caught her breath. Her pulse quickened and she felt physically ill. Hadn’t Stephen mentioned something about speaking only to the bishop? And wasn’t that supposed to happen over the weekend? She wrapped her hands around her midsection and leaned against the porch railing, apprehension rising within her in expectation of what might happen next.
